


Switch

by ageless_aislynn



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Snowells Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 18:05:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19278607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ageless_aislynn/pseuds/ageless_aislynn
Summary: Getting swapped into Harrison Wells' body is an eye-opening experience for Caitlin. In more ways than one. ForSnowells Week 2019, Day 3, prompt: Body-Swap





	Switch

**Author's Note:**

> Body-swapping is one of my favorite tropes, so I could probably have fun writing a full-length ReverseSnow novel on it, lol! But, in lieu of that, here's a shorter little bit set in season 1. ;)
> 
> This also has a home at [Tumblr](https://ageless-aislynn.tumblr.com/post/185708687570/switch-agelessaislynn-the-flash-tv-2014). If you read, I hope you enjoy! :D ♥

"I'm not sure," Cisco mused speculatively as he and Caitlin entered the Cortex. "'Mixer-Switcher' just doesn't feel like my best effort when it comes to metahuman names. Sounds too much like I'm calling him a DJ. Or, I dunno, saying he's not sure if he's a top or bottom. It just doesn't have that spot-on-but-still-family-friendly feel I try for."

"I'm sure you'll think of something--" Caitlin was saying as Dr. Wells turned from his computer, eyes widening.

"Look out!" he called and she spun in time to see the man in the half-black, half-white outfit pop through the doorway behind them.

"Maybe I'm a DJ who's really into BDSM," he said snidely, his gauntlets glowing as he took aim. As he fired, Barry sped in and tackled him.

The glancing edge of the blast sent Caitlin flying backwards, crashing next to Dr. Wells' wheelchair.

"Cait, you okay?" Cisco's voice sounded momentarily like it was distorted underwater.

"Dr. Snow?"

Dr. Wells rolled forward enough to get a hand around her upper arm, helping her to her feet with surprising strength.

"I'm okay," she told them both, attempting a reassuring smile. A tremor in her knees made her almost collapse. Embarrassingly, she _nearly sat in his lap_ before managing to change trajectories to fall heavily in her chair.

"You don't look okay," Dr. Wells chided, wheeling over and tilting her head towards the light before running his hand over her skull. "Did you hit your head? Lose consciousness, even for a second?"

His touch was gentle and professional but still she blushed, having to fight the urge to lean into him. "Um, yes. I mean, no. I'm fine, I didn't hit my head or black out."

Up close, his blue eyes seemed especially piercing behind his glasses and it felt like he could see right through her. To deflect, she went on, "So, do we even _have_ a lock on the door? How do these guys keep just walking in?"

***

A couple hours later, with Mixer-Switcher -- Cisco was right, the name could definitely use some work -- firmly ensconced in the Pipeline, Caitlin sighed as she turned her bathtub's faucets. She stripped and hung up her clothes, returning to add her favorite bath bomb. While waiting for the tub to fill, she noticed a faint bruise on the top of her shoulder. Twisting and turning, she checked herself in the mirror for any other injuries from her erstwhile tangle with the meta. She suddenly thought of Dr. Wells running his hand through her hair and her expression went a bit dreamy.

 _No,_ she thought sternly, jabbing a finger at her reflection. _Harrison Wells is your boss, he's your friend, and he's not going to be the subject of some schoolgirl crush! You get these thoughts out of your head right now or--_

She crashed to the ground in a suddenly much dimmer environment, hearing a glass shatter. The sharp scent of whiskey hit her nose.

For a moment, she just blinked, trying to get her bearings. Her surroundings were sparse, elegant and unfamiliar. The way she'd sprawled forward was uncomfortable so she awkwardly rolled over, gawking at the long legs stretching out before her, wearing black, well-tailored pants which were currently twisted.

"Mixer-switcher," she groaned aloud, then startled.

 _Oh no, I know that voice,_ she thought in alarm. Automatically, she looked down, patting the surprisingly firm, sculpted chest beneath the white dress shirt he'd been wearing at work today. Then she felt the angles and plains of the face she'd covertly admired for so long up to the hair she'd longed to ruffle -- wait, where were his glasses? Had they gotten knocked off when he'd fallen? Where was his wheelchair, for that matter?

She squirmed as the uncomfortable sensation threatened to spike into pain in a region she didn't possess in her own body. Plucking at the pants, she tried to... adjust things back into proper alignment from the outside, only to hiss when it got worse.

 _Well, I can't risk, you know, doing damage,_ she thought, rationalizing as she fumbled with the button and fly of his pants and reached in to move things about.

She couldn't help it, she _looked_ , needing to visually confirm what his hand was telling her. "Oh my God," she blurted out, his voice shocked.

Her mind idly noted he was a boxer-briefs man. Tardily, she also realized she could feel his hand on his-- _Whoa, feeling it a little too much,_ she thought, yanking away. _I thought he didn't have sensation below the waist? Maybe it's just movement that's paralyzed?_

His knees bent easily and she was standing before she even articulated the thought. 

Harrison Wells wasn't paralyzed.

While she was trying to process that bombshell, the phone jangled loudly. The next thing she knew, she'd crashed into the wall at the end of the long room hard enough to leave a small crater where his shoulder hit.

The impact also made her aware of something hard in his pocket. She pulled out a heavy gold ring with the Flash's symbol. No, it wasn't the Flash's.

 _The reverse,_ she thought numbly. She put it on, it fit his finger perfectly. Muscle memory took over, his arm extended, fingers folding into a fist and there was some sort of electric _push_ and--

The yellow suit somehow ejected out of the ring, unfolding as it majestically arced through the air. Then it gave an undignified splat onto the polished floor, skidding to a stop in a puddle of thick fabric.

Through the few seconds of eternity that had completely tipped her world on its head, the phone had continued to ring. Looking down, the number on the Caller ID was quite familiar as she picked up.

"So it seems that Mixer-Switcher's powers can have a delay," her voice said dryly without preamble. "His other body exchanges wore off anywhere from a few hours to a day but I wouldn't think it should take that long in this case since it--"

"What. The. Hell?" His voice thundered quite satisfactorily.

Harrison paused, then took on the _reasonable professor_ tone he'd used often in the past. "I take it you've discovered a few things?"

"Ya think?" she snapped.

"I can explain."

"Explain? You're going to explain this, huh?!?" Oh yeah, it felt _good_ to yell in his voice.

"Caitlin, calm down. Let's talk. Stay there and I'll--"

She suddenly fell to the floor in her bedroom. "Ouch," she grumbled, using her bed to lever herself to her feet. She was now wearing a mismatched bra and panty set and the bra was apparently fastened wrong.

The distinctive buzz of a speedster phasing through a solid surface was all the warning she had before the man in the yellow suit appeared before her, eyes glowing red. Then he abruptly pulled his mask back and regarded her steadily. 

"Why were my pants unzipped?"

"That-- I was... That was totally innocent," she spluttered.

He arched a brow.

"You touched my lingerie," she pointed out, crossing her arms.

"Would you rather I went ahead and _bathed you_? Or left you naked?"

She gestured defensively, scrambling to regain her righteous anger. "This is all beside the point, _Reverse Flash_."

"Hm, true," he mused, slowly stepping towards her until she automatically backed up, her legs hitting the bed. She abruptly wondered just how much danger she was in. Strangely, she didn't feel afraid.

"It seems to me we can help each other here," he said softly. "You keep my secrets, I'll keep yours."

"Secrets? I don't have any--"

He bent -- she'd forgotten how tall he was -- and murmured in her ear, "I saw what's in the drawer."

He straightened, eyes deliberately moving to the nightstand beside her bed. The top drawer was, indeed, open a crack.

She gasped, face going flaming hot, and reached over to slam it shut as if that would _somehow_ make a difference. "You... I..."

He gave a surprisingly serene smile, waiting her out.

"Fine," she finally said through gritted teeth.

"Good," he said, nodding cordially. "We'll settle up the details later."

 _Details?_ she thought in alarm but before she could ask, he pulled on his mask once more.

"Though tell me," he said, eyes going red and voice distorting, "did you at least like what you saw?"

"Dr. Wells!" she exclaimed in a scandalized tone.

His laughter hung in the air long after he'd sped away.


End file.
